


A Brokers Rise to Power.

by Rainmaker221



Category: Campaign (Podcast)
Genre: Betrayal, Death, Don't worry Nothing to bad happens to the boy, Murder, a young man growing up too fast, the people that die deserve it though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25865203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainmaker221/pseuds/Rainmaker221
Summary: The Broker we know and love is not the first of the Brokers of Burza Nyth, so how did he come to take power? Especially with how young he is? This is the story of how a young man, an assuming agent of the broker took over one of the most powerful positions outside of the redfeather syndicate.
Kudos: 2





	A Brokers Rise to Power.

While nobody actually called Burza Nyth “the city of birds” they were such a common enough appearance that nobody thought twice when they were seen. And just a few yards down from Nobody, was people with too much time on their hands.  
“I’m telling ya,” The skinny well dressed man said, “There have been more ravens lately.”  
“Uh huh,” Said his companion, clearly already bored of this conversation they’ve had before.  
“I’ve been counting,” He assured, taking a small leap onto a ledge to get a better look at a bird gliding above. “I swear I used ta only see a couple a month. But I saw at least 12 last week alone.”   
“Are you sure you didn’t just see one raven 12 times?” The Companion asked, holding back audible laughter, but not a smirk.  
For a moment the man seemed willing to consider this idea. This doubt was quickly squashed.  
There was no slow build, no first one then the other. Where once there were no Ravens, there now were many. They rose into the sky, a tornado of jet black feathers and loud caws. They seemed endless, rising into the sky by the legion and quickly dispersing around the city. They carried no letters or missives, though the odd raven rasped out an ominous “Hello dears.” or “Bargain me,” while poking at shiner keepsakes. An expert in their behavior would deduce their happiness and joy. There were few Raven experts in Burza Nyth.  
One particular Raven broke from the pack, as if on a mission, they made their way across Burza Nyth and into the office of the Keeper of the traders skull.  
Too wrapped up in the work of the day, the Keeper had not noticed the Raven’s and their dramatic revelry.  
But he was not surprised by the sight of the Raven on his desk.  
He was, however, greatly perturbed by what happened next. The raven poked at the glass attached to their leg, thinking it was meant for him he reached for it only for his hand to be pecked away. Finally the glass shattered and the raven took a noticeable inhale of the mist emanating from the shards. He looked at the keeper, and tilted his head.  
“Hello?” the raven spoke, witn a voice far too human to be their own, “Can you hear me sir?”  
For a moment the Keeper reeled at the sight.  
“Sir?” The Raven repeated, head uncocking, “I apologize if I have disturbed you, but I do need to know if you can hear me.”  
“Yes,” The keeper replied, quickly regaining his composure, “Yes I can hear you.” He stood up straighter in his chair, as if to intimidate the raven.  
“Oh good.” The relief and amusement was clear in the tone, if not the posture of the Raven. “Old magic like this doesn’t always work the way you’d expect. And this is my first time trying something like this.”  
“Who are you?” The Keeper demanded, “And how can you talk?”  
“Oh,” a quick but somehow distant sounding laugh was heard through the raven, “My apologies I am not, in fact, a raven I am merely talking to you through this raven.” The keeper briefly hoped the voice on the other end couldn’t see him, as he utterly failed to hide his sheepish response to the correction.  
“My name however is” The was the slightest of bumps and pauses, “Immaterial, I am taking over the offices and responsibilities of the Broker. I am telling you this as a courtesy, we will likely meet in person and I do not wish for you to be surprised.”  
“Well what If I don’t want to deal with you?” The Keeper asked, attempting to regain some control of this bizarre conversation.  
“Then you don’t get to deal with the Broker.” Even the Raven seemed agitated by this question, “and you of all people should know that business at your level requires the aid of my offices.”  
“What happened to the old broker.”  
“He is no longer your concern, Keeper,” The voice said, “but do not worry, I intend to live up to both the spirit and the letter of codes of business of Burza Nyth.”The keeper readied to ask another question but was quickly shut down. “Have a pleasant evening Sir. I look forward to a mutually beneficial arrangement. You’ll be hearing from one of my agents soon enough” A red mist was quickly exhaled from the raven, who promptly fell dead to the desk.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Across the town, in an unassuming corner of an assuming distinct, wild haired and exhausted looking young man slumped over in his desk, shuffling some papers around he looked at the raven on the desk.  
“Well at least he stuck to the script.” he said, scanning a list of names, “So who's next?”  
The Broker is a story and title as old as the market of Burza Nythe, the title passed from person to person.  
Death, retirement, coup, sometimes the passage over power is quick and concise, other times its all out war.  
This is the tale of a broker who shattered the mold, of a boy who grew old too fast and shouldered the burden of a city.  
He is the Broker, and will be for some time yet. But who was he before his title?  
Well he was many things.  
But his name? Was Corvid.


End file.
